Target Practice
by Woman of Rohan
Summary: A teenage Talbot, newly hired by Marlowe, gets a lesson in firearms training he won't soon forget. But a target isn't the only thing he's got in his sights. One-sided Tallowe.


**I won't be around for Valentine's Day this year... so here! Have a barfy cute thing that I should probably be ashamed of. I have no idea how this happened but I realized I hadn't written much teenage!Talbot. So... this is my take on him, freshly acquired by Marlowe and hired by the Organization. He had the hots for her from day one. Poor thing... too bad he's invisible to her at this point in time.  
**

* * *

_Eyes on the target. Focus. Concentrate. __Breathe__._

Inhaling a steady breath and then exhaling slowly as he mentally repeated the mantra, Talbot squeezed the trigger of the pistol several times and watched as fresh holes were torn through the circular target at the opposite end of the range.

The near-fluorescent lighting of the room allowed the punctures to be viewed easily as light spilled through them. He lowered his gun for a moment to observe his handiwork, where several of the bullets had hit quite close to the bulls-eye. So far, he hadn't missed a mark. And to think... just a few weeks prior, and he hadn't yet fired a gun. Not in all his eighteen years.

Until now.

_Until Marlowe._

As was always the case whenever his thoughts were somewhat inappropriately centered upon his superior, he was interrupted. Or perhaps... it was simply the fact that he was in a constant state of thinking of her. He didn't want to dwell on that, however... and thankfully, a tap on his shoulder gave him an excuse to shift his attention elsewhere.

Holding his gun with his left hand pointed at the ground for safety purposes, he turned slightly on his heel to see Agent 39 standing beside him. A middle-aged man with a prominent scar running down the right side of his face and a placid expression, he'd been the one in charge of Talbot's firearms training. Talbot lifted one side of the soundproof earmuffs so that he could hear what he had to say, assuming an air of dutifulness.

"Someone's here to see you," he said with a nod towards the door at the opposite side of the fortified room. As 39 took a few steps towards the exit, Talbot glanced over his shoulder to see Marlowe entering.

Suddenly, his heart felt like it had been caught in his throat, chest tight and breath hitched. He forgot how to breathe, how to stand... _everything, _as cold panic set in. He ended up frozen in place, merely watching dumbly as Marlowe sauntered with purpose into the room and exchanged a brief greeting with 39 before he left, leaving the two of them alone together.

Wearing a flattering black, pinstriped dress that accentuated her feminine curves , the tapping of Marlowe's high-heels seemed to echo particularly loud in the expansive underground chamber. The noise bounced off the brick walls, commanding attention. Even without her choice of footwear, Talbot felt that she did that well enough on her own.

When she was a few feet away from him, Talbot nodded politely, not quite making eye contact.

"Good day, Marlowe," he greeted, trying his best not to fumble as he removed his earmuffs, so that she had his undivided attention. He hadn't seen her in weeks, to be entirely honest... and he was never quite sure how to address her. Nothing ever felt suitable. "I hope you've been well?"

"Yes, thank you. I had some time to kill, so I figured I'd stop by."

Whether she intended to visit him in particular or not, Talbot was flattered... and she'd already saved him from asking his second question of why she'd decided to pay a visit to the shooting range. He met her gaze evenly for a brief moment, but one look into her green eyes, highlighted by light purple makeup, was too much for him. He fidgeted for a few moments, the gun still in his grasp, and in an instant, Marlowe's expression flashed impatience.

"I don't have all day. Do you care to show me what you've learned?"

"Oh. Yes, yes of course," he stammered.

Marlowe positioned herself a few feet behind him while Talbot prepped himself once again. He put his earmuffs back on and held the gun as steadily as he could in front of him. Staring down at the targets a few metres off down the range, he noted that in the time since Marlowe had entered the room, it had been switched from a circular target hanging upon the ceiling to one in the shape of a human torso.

With the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears, Talbot panicked. He didn't want to botch up his training in front of Marlowe... and he'd never fired at a human-shaped target before. What if he was terrible at it? What if he messed up the shot, and Marlowe decided she wanted someone else in his stead, that he wasn't worthy enough?

Assuming a firing stance, he took a deep breath and repeated his mantra, attempting to maintain a clear mind... the state of his heart rate, however, couldn't possibly be helped.

_Focus, concentrate, breathe. Exhale on the shot. Or was it inhale? _

The pistol suddenly felt impossibly heavy in his hands. His mouth was dry and his arms were tense. He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder, seeing Marlowe standing near him out of his peripheral vision. She crossed her arms over her chest, but said nothing. She didn't need to.

It was now or never, he supposed. He didn't want her to become cross with him for stalling. Without thinking, Talbot refocused his eyes forward and fired a couple of shots, jumping from the loudness of it. His grip was slack on the gun, causing his aim to be considerably off as he hadn't accommodated for the kickback. With lips turned downwards into a frown, Talbot realized he hadn't even gotten close to the target. He'd missed entirely.

_Damn it. _

What was he doing? So much for showing off his newly acquired skills. Even through the sound-blocking headpiece, Talbot could hear Marlowe chuckling from behind him. It occurred to Talbot in that moment that he'd never actually heard her laugh before. There was a clear, pleasant quality to it... but also a harsh edge that made him want to hang his head in shame.

"Hah, it appears we have a case of beginner's luck," she said, taking a few steps so that she'd closed the distance between them. Already, there was the unexpected warmth of embarrassment spreading into Talbot's cheeks.

"Your stance is all wrong," Marlowe scolded, and before he knew it, her body was flush to his back, hands upon his hips, so that there wasn't an inch left between them. Clearly, the woman had no concept of personal space. "Come on, now, legs shoulder-width apart."

Talbot felt as Marlowe nudged his inner ankle with her shoe, urging him to widen his stance. He adjusted his posture without question... seemingly paralyzed from the waist-up and in quite the state of shock. He'd never been so close to her before. She smelled quite good, like some sort of wildflower. Was that perfume she was wearing? Talbot held his breath, afraid to inhale too much, as he already felt stricken.

"Are you paying attention, Talbot?" Without permission, as it seemed to be her way, Marlowe snatched the earmuffs from his head and tossed them carelessly on the floor beside them. Weren't those expensive? "Listen up. This is very important."

"Yes, Marlowe." Talbot kept his arms up as he held the gun in his grip, though he was shaking a bit. He hoped she didn't notice his nervousness, but not a moment later, and she verbally confirmed such a fact. How she managed to see right through him, he'd never know.

"You're awfully tense," she said and squeezed his shoulder, before her hand slid down his upper arm and came to grip his right elbow. Talbot watched as her fingers curled around his arm and held him steady... not tight enough to hurt him, but she certainly had quite the hold on him. Somehow, he wasn't surprised in the slightest. She guided his arm upwards, so that he was again holding the gun with both hands. "_Relax_. Keep your arm bent, but don't lock your elbows."

Though he tried to catch his breath, Talbot knew that his concentration was rapidly slipping as he stared down the sight of his gun, trying his absolute hardest to prevent himself from turning his head and looking at her. Marlowe was too close for him to possibly remain comfortable. Still, he rolled his shoulders and tightened his hold on the grip of his gun. Then, he relaxed his arm the best he could, despite his trembling.

Marlowe shifted slightly, practically speaking right into his ear, her chin almost touching his shoulder. She had a casual and calming tone to her voice... but also a condescending quality to it. Talbot had never met anyone quite like her. When she spoke, he hung onto every word, merely wanted to listen to everything, _anything _she had to say.

"Next, it's going to be loud, so anticipate the noise before you actually hear it. You won't startle yourself."

As she lectured him, her warm breath was hot against Talbot's neck. Droplets of sweat were making their slow descent down his face.

"Now," she said and shifted closer still, her voice little more than a whisper. Talbot knew that she meant to make him feel comfortable and at ease, but she was doing quite the opposite. "Control your breathing. And pull the trigger."

Marlowe's feminine hips pressed up against his backside were _quite _the distraction, but Talbot somehow garnered up the willpower and managed to stay on task. Between his racing heart and his scattered thoughts, he was at least able to calm one of the two.

_Come on, concentrate. Focus. Breathe. Aim... steady... steady...  
_

As his finger shifted to the trigger, Talbot listened intently to Marlowe's steady breathing, feeling as her chest rose and fell against his back. He tried to match his breathing with her own… inhaling a slow and deliberate breath through his nose… and breathing out through his mouth.

_... and fire._

Before he could hesitate any longer, Talbot closed his eyes, trusting his instinct, and pulled the trigger. The shot hadn't seemed nearly as loud, suddenly rather quiet in comparison to the persistent pounding in his ears. When his eyes blinked open again, Talbot was awestruck by his own marksmanship, and Marlowe uttered her approval.

"Ah, nice one," Marlowe said, and gave him a congratulatory pat on his bum which caused Talbot to flinch. "Straight through the heart. If that were a real target, you'd have downed him instantly."

The air seemed to thin out as Marlowe shifted away from him, and with raised eyebrows, he turned to watch her leave. Just like that, and she was already on her way out, just as swiftly as she'd come. Talbot's internal reaction, needless to say, was wholly unexpected. Of course, he hadn't kept his hopes up that she'd linger around while he progressed with his training, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment.

"Keep up the good work," she said, turning her head to regard him briefly, her high-heels once again clicking as she made her way towards the door. "And remember what I told you."

Knees shaking and arms feeling like pudding, Talbot couldn't even articulate a proper response. None of them could express what he was feeling. Everything sounded… well, _stupid_, for lack of a better word. Still, he managed a quiet "thank you" as the door was politely opened by agent 39 for Marlowe as she took her leave, and then slammed shut... leaving Talbot alone in the shooting range once again.

Blue eyes narrowed, Talbot regarded the target and the perfect killing shot he'd managed to pull off with Marlowe's aid, shoulders slumped and hands slick with perspiration. He breathed a sigh through his dry, parted lips.

_Straight through the heart._

Somehow, Talbot shared the target's sentiments exactly.


End file.
